A Gift to You Read online

  Izzy was flabbergasted. She’d only met the woman twice, for heaven’s sake, and here she was offering her clothes for Jessica. Did she think the Reynolds were on their uppers and needed charity, just because Bill was unemployed? Izzy had assured her new next-door neighbour that Jessica had plenty of clothes and hastily finished her coffee and made her escape. Even if Jessica had to go around in rags, she wouldn’t accept such impertinent help from the superior Pierces.

  You weren’t very neighbourly, she accused herself silently, glad to get back to the comfort of her own kitchen Was she being so prickly because her pride was hurting and she didn’t want to seem like the poor man at his better’s table? If Bill had been working and she’d been free of all her financial worries would she have handled Owen and Nicole differently and felt more gracious towards them? Was she, in fact, just indulging in a fit of extremely large sour grapes?

  ‘Definitely not. Most definitely not, Izzy!’ Jill, her other next-door neighbour, retorted emphatically when Izzy, shame-faced, put this scenario to her one day when they were waiting at the school gates to collect their children.

  ‘He’s a pushy shagger!’ Jill exclaimed irritably, ‘and she’s a stuck-up madam with notions about herself.’

  Izzy had laughed and didn’t feel so bad knowing that it wasn’t just her straightened circumstances and envy of her neighbours that had put her off Owen, Nicole and their offspring.

  ‘Mammy, can we go to Disneyland sometime?’ Keith’s big blue eyes stared up into hers, wide and innocent, as blue as two cornflowers, as he shovelled the last of his macaroni cheese into his mouth.

  ‘Well . . . um . . . some day, please God, we’ll get to Disneyland. We’ll just have to say a prayer that Daddy gets a job soon.’ She smiled down at her son, who had gone trotting off, saying, ‘Dear Holy God, please let my daddy get a job soon so he can bring us to Disneyland before scummy Jason Pierce goes.’

  As Izzy cleared away the dirty dishes, she thought ruefully that it wasn’t a prayer that was needed to get them to Disneyland . . . it was a miracle.

  She walked into the sitting room and gave a little shiver. The house was so cold. She felt thoroughly resentful and frustrated that she could no longer just flick a switch and have instant heat. Even though they had tried to conserve oil by turning on the heat later in the evenings, because winter had come early they had run out of that precious dark liquid a week ago. Since then, Izzy had been lighting the fire and, because they were economising on fuel, the back boiler was never hot enough to give off more than lukewarm heat from the radiators. Because of Christmas and all its expenses, they wouldn’t be able to afford oil until well into the New Year. If even then.

  I’m sick of this, Izzy thought bitterly as she walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out at the lowering sky that threatened snow. Snow! That was all they needed to make life even more miserable. Come the New Year, she might go looking for a part-time job that would enable her to be there when the children came home from school. She’d been a clerical officer when she had married Bill. Maybe she should have stayed working instead of taking her lump sum. Then they wouldn’t be so hard hit now. If she got a part-time job, though, it could affect Bill’s means-tested dole money. There was no point in her working if it meant a reduction in his income, Izzy thought glumly, straightening the folds in her lace curtains. She had washed them yesterday and they were pristine. Most of the other houses in the cul-de-sac had roller blinds, net curtains being rather old fashioned, but Izzy had always liked ‘proper curtains’, as her grandmother called them. She hated the idea of people being able to see through her front window. Her home was her haven, not a showpiece for the neighbours to view every time they walked by.

  Owen, whose latest foible was practising his putting shots on the front lawn, was always trying to gawk in the window and it gave Izzy no small satisfaction to know that he couldn’t see in. Her curtains were her protection from his prying eyes.

  He was out now, strimming the edge of the grass, despite the fact that it was a bitterly cold winter’s day. She grinned as the catgut broke and flew across the lawn. She knew she was being petty but she didn’t care. He just got on her nerves. She had got so fed up of him strolling in front of her windows and playing rugby with Jason on the front lawn that she had asked her brother, a horticulturist, what she could put down to separate the gardens and keep her unwanted neighbour out. A large thorny orange-berried pyracantha trained along a white wooden picket fence now formed a border between numbers 7 and 8 Maple Wood Drive, curtailing Owen and Jason’s sporting activities somewhat.

  Jason was driving poor old Keith around the twist about the new computer he was getting for Christmas. It was going to be ‘the best computer in the world’, with better games than the old Dell one that Keith had, according to Jason. Every mother in the cul-de-sac could cheerfully have wrung Jason Pierce’s neck, as their own envious offspring demanded ‘a best computer’ as well.

  Bill and Izzy had been arguing that morning about what to buy the children for Christmas. Bill, as sick of penny-pinching as she was, wanted to borrow a couple of hundred quid from the credit union to splash out on Christmas, and to hell with it. Izzy had argued that they needed oil. The house insurance was coming up and all of the children needed new shoes. If there was one thing Izzy was very particular about, it was about getting good shoes for her children and nowadays a pair of decent shoes for a three-year-old could cost the guts of fifty euros. Paying out fifty euros each for the three of them would leave her fairly skint.

  ‘We can’t afford it and that’s that,’ Izzy asserted. Bill’s face darkened with impotent fury.

  ‘Don’t rub it in, for Christ’s sake! I know we can’t, I just want to give the kids a decent Christmas. Is that too much to want?’ he snarled. A red mist descended in front of Izzy’s eyes. It wasn’t her fault that they had no money. She was only trying to keep them out of debt.

  ‘Listen, mister, you can do what you damn well like. I was only trying to help. Do you think I don’t want to give them a good Christmas? I’m trying to do my best for all of us and it’s not easy. So don’t you take it out on me, Bill. It’s not my fault you’re unemployed. It’s not me who can’t get a job.’ Izzy was so angry her voice was shaking as months of suppressed rage, fear and frustration fuelled her outburst.

  ‘God, you really know how to put the boot in, don’t you?’ Bill raged. ‘You should have married someone like bloody Superdad over there, not a loser like me.’ With that, he’d picked up his anorak and strode out of the front door, slamming it hard behind him. Sick at heart, Izzy sat down at the kitchen table, put her head in her hands and bawled her eyes out. She had never felt so sorry for herself in her life. What had she done to deserve this? she sniffled. After a good twenty minutes of alternate cursing and sobbing, she felt somewhat better. A good cry was just the thing sometimes; it helped to get it all out of your system. Fortunately, the children had spent the previous night on a sleepover with their cousins so they hadn’t witnessed the row. She didn’t want them being upset as well.

  It was almost 3 p.m., Izzy noted, and still no sign of Bill. She wondered what he was doing. It had got even darker outside, the clouds so low they seemed almost to touch the rooftops. The frost, which hadn’t thawed all day, cast a silvery sheen to the lawns, the flaming orange of the pyracantha berries a startling contrast. The stark silhouettes of bare-branched trees encircled the cul-de-sac protectively; a robin nestled in the shelter of an evergreen shrub. Normally Izzy would have enjoyed the picturesque, wintry scene outside her big window but today it just seemed bleak and cold and again she shivered.

  ‘To hell with it,’ she muttered crossly, and, with a determined set to her jaw, she walked over to the fire and struck a match, watching with pleasure as the flames caught the firelighters and roared up the chimney, the kindling flaming, spitting and sparking and scenting the room with the freshness of pine. The glow of the orange-yellow flames casting their shadows on the wa
lls soothed Izzy. She sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire and pulled two large carrier bags overflowing with presents, in front of her. This was the ideal time to sort out the Christmas present situation. It was something she had been putting off all day, but she might as well do it while Bill and the kids were out of the house. If she were quick and organized, she’d have her task complete before he was home. Then her husband wouldn’t have the added indignity of seeing her selecting presents they had received last year, to be given to their relatives this year. If only she could remember who had given her what. It would be a disaster to return a gift to someone who had given it to them in the first place.

  Izzy gave a wry smile as she unloaded the bags on to the floor. The only other time in her life when she had had to recycle presents was that first year she had moved into a flat with her two best friends and they had all been practically penniless. It had been fun then though, not like this.

  She eyed the assorted collection surrounding her. Tablemats, they could go to Aunt Sadie. A basket of Body Shop soaps and shampoos. Now who had given her them? She cast her mind back, was it Stella? No, it was Rita, her sister-in-law. Well, Stella could have the Body Shop basket and Rita could have the lovely red angora scarf that her godmother had given her. Izzy fingered the scarf, enjoying the feel of the soft luxurious wool between her fingers. It would have been nice to have been able to wear it herself, she thought regretfully, but needs must and Rita would like it.

  She wanted to give her sister-in-law a nice present. Rita was very good to them, as indeed were all of their families. That was why Izzy wanted to give them presents at Christmas. And she wanted to show that she and Bill were not completely on their uppers.

  Foolish pride, she thought ruefully. They were on their uppers. This year, she decided, she would keep a list of who gave what, so that next Christmas if Bill were still unemployed, it would be easier for her to match up presents. If people saw her this minute, no doubt they would think she was dreadfully mean, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.

  She spent a peaceful hour sitting in the fire’s glow sorting out the presents and wrapping them. She had just stood up and was trying to get rid of the pins and needles in her feet when she saw Bill marching into the cul-de-sac. He was lugging the biggest, bushiest Christmas tree she had ever seen. A broad grin creased her face. Bill was a sucker for Christmas trees. The bigger and bushier the better.

  She flung open the front door as her husband struggled up the path with his load. Panting, he stood looking at her. ‘I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean it.’ Their eyes met and a flicker of happiness ignited briefly. ‘You’re the best wife a man could have and I know I’m dead lucky.’

  ‘Oh, Bill, it’s all right, I didn’t mean what I said either.’ Izzy, happy that their tiff was over, flung her arms around him, ignoring the prickly tree and was rewarded with a one-armed bear hug. ‘It’s brilliant, where did you get it?’ She eyed the tree admiringly.

  ‘Up near the Castle from a fella on a lorry, much cheaper than that lot outside SuperValu. Look at the width of it and look at the fullness up top and the symmetry is almost perfect.’ Bill, who was a connoisseur of Christmas trees, enthused about his find. ‘It’s the best ever.’

  ‘You say that every year.’ Izzy laughed. ‘Come on in. I have the fire lighting. It was cold, so I lit it early to make the place warm for when the kids get home,’ she added a little defensively.

  ‘You did right, Izzy, it’s bloody freezing out today,’ Bill declared stoutly, and they smiled at each other. ‘Hey, what do you think if I rang Rita and asked her to keep the kids for another hour or two and we decorated the tree for them as a surprise?’

  ‘Oh, yeah! Just imagine their faces!’ Izzy felt her previous despondency lift as a rare lightheartedness enveloped her. ‘Do you think Rita would mind?’

  ‘Naw.’ Bill shook his head. ‘Say we’ll take her gang if she wants to go shopping or anything.’

  ‘Right,’ Izzy said briskly, ‘you ring her and I’ll put the kettle on and we’ll have a cup of coffee and get going,’ Unemployment, be dammed, they were going to have the best Christmas tree ever.

  Rita obligingly agreed to keep the children for another couple of hours and gratefully agreed to Izzy’s offer to take her own children the following afternoon so she could do some Sunday shopping in peace and quiet. For the next two hours, Izzy and Bill thoroughly enjoyed themselves as they transformed the six-foot tree into a magical delight adorned with twinkling lights and glittering ornaments and frothy tinsel.

  They laced the ceiling with garlands and Izzy prepared the crib, decorating it with black papier-mâché to give the impression of mountains, and twining ivy across the top and down the sides. She arranged a little light in at the back and laid the straw that she kept year after year, on the floor of the crib. Bill hung up a sheriff’s star from an old cowboy set that he had had as a child and it glittered in the firelight as bright as any star of Bethlehem. They would have a little ceremony when the children were home. Jessica, being the youngest would solemnly place Baby Jesus in the Crib.

  They stood back to admire their handiwork. ‘It’s lovely,’ Bill declared, as Izzy fussed at a piece of ivy wanting to have it just so.

  ‘So is the tree.’ His wife smiled. ‘Definitely the best ever.’

  ‘It’s a biggie all right.’ Bill grinned.

  ‘Bigger than Superdad’s,’ Izzy murmured wickedly. Bill caught her knowing gaze and laughed.

  ‘And real, as well; poor Jason has to make do with an artificial yoke, even if it is the biggest and most expensive one there is. It’s just not the same, sure it isn’t?’ His eyes twinkled.

  Owen and Nicole had put their tree up over a week ago. They had been the first in the cul-de-sac to put one up. Great wreaths of holly hung on their doors and windows and Jason and Emma were bursting with pride. Each day, Keith enquired anxiously if they were going to put their tree up and Izzy reassured her young son that indeed they would. She was dying to see his face when he saw the six-foot giant that now reposed all alight in their front window.

  Ravenous after their exertions, they decided they deserved a rare treat and ordered a Chinese. They ate it sitting in front of the fire, thoroughly enjoying their spare ribs in barbecue sauce, and the crispy duck and prawn crackers. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and the amber luminescence of the fire enveloped them in a cocoon of golden warmth as rain and sleet lashed against the windows and the wind howled like a banshee as it swirled and eddied around the cul-de-sac. Izzy and Bill enjoyed their fireside meal, all their troubles put behind them for the precious few hours they had to themselves. Later they made slow, tender love in the firelight. It was the nicest time they’d had in ages and Izzy, renewed in spirit, felt she could face anything.

  That evening, the dishes tidied, the lights of the tree switched off and the sitting room in darkness, they heard Rita’s car in the drive. The children, tumbling out of the car door ran to greet their parents and shelter from the sleety rain. ‘I won’t come in!’ Rita yelled, sticking her head out the window. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow around two with my gang.’

  ‘Fine, Rita, thanks a million,’ Izzy called back as Bill helped the trio divest themselves of coats and hats. Waving at her sister-in-law as she reversed down the drive, Izzy was glad to close the door and shut out the wintry night.

  ‘We have a surprise for you. You’ve got to close your eyes and no peeping,’ Bill warned, as he led Rachel, Keith and Jessica to the sitting room door.

  ‘What is it? What is it?’ Keith was hopping from one leg to the other with impatience.

  ‘Keith, they’re not going to tell you ’cos it won’t be a surprise then,’ Rachel said sagely, doing her big-sister act, but Izzy could see her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

  ‘Huwwy on,’ Jessica had her fingers up to her eyes and was peering anxiously through them. Watching the capers of the three of them, Izzy experienced a rare frisson of happine
ss and knew that whatever happened in the future, no one could ever take these precious moments away from her.

  ‘Keep those eyes shut,’ Bill warned, as Izzy took Jessica by the hand and led them into the darkened sitting room illuminated only by the firelight and the little red lamp in the crib. ‘Open up!’ Bill ordered as he plugged in the lights. He hugged Izzy as the children squealed with delight and excitement.

  ‘Oh, Daddy, it’s COOL!’ Keith was beside himself.

  ‘Oh, Mammy, isn’t it beeeautiful?’ Rachel breathed. Jessica stood speechless, her big blue eyes getting rounder by the minute. Hesitantly she stretched out a chubby little hand and touched one of the ornaments.

  ‘Tanta Plause,’ she exclaimed triumphantly, stroking the little fat Santa, her eyes as bright as the Christmas tree lights.

  ‘Oh, look at the crib, Mammy. Can we put Baby Jesus in?’ Rachel beseeched.

  ‘Daddy and I were waiting until you came home so we could say a little prayer to welcome Baby Jesus into our family,’ Izzy smiled and hugged her eldest daughter. She wanted her children to appreciate the special spirituality of Christmas and the crib ceremony was one of their most important family events.

  With great solemnity, Rachel placed the infant Jesus in his manger in her younger sister’s hands and guided the toddler to the correct spot in the centre of the straw, between Mary and Joseph. ‘Welcome, Baby Jesus,’ they all chorused reverently.

  ‘And we hope you’ll be very comfortable in your manger,’ Rachel added as she patted the straw down. Jessica planted a big wet kiss on the newly installed infant.

  ‘I bet he will be comfortable, our crib is much nicer than Jason Pierce’s an’ they don’t have a light or straw either,’ Keith declared with satisfaction as he took a bit of straw and placed it in front of the two little sheep on the mountainside. ‘In case they’re hungry,’ he explained to his parents who were having a very hard time keeping their faces straight.